Just Friends (13 page)

What an idiot she was. At least before she
could blame her lack of prospects on the fact that she used to
dress in loose-fitting clothes that hid her figure so well even she
couldn’t find it. Growing up in a strict household had made her
very self-conscious about her body and how she portrayed herself to
the male gender.

Modesty, Lana. A young lady should be modest
at all times.

Her mother had beaten those words into her
head for many years. Into the head of her sisters, too.
Nonetheless, her middle sister became pregnant in high school. Even
though she lost the baby, the situation at home worsened for
Alannah, the youngest. She should have started dating at sixteen,
but because of the pregnancy, her parents decided that she had to
finish school first.

The new mantra became,
Education first,
boys last.
As if she hadn’t been pulling straight A’s all
along.

Alannah looked down at her outfit. The red
dress should have been a statement. Hard to believe not one single
man in the place found her attractive enough to approach.

She’d even worn heels! She’d practiced in
them to make sure she didn’t look like a fool tonight, but she
looked like a fool anyway. Because no one wanted her.

A lone tear attached to her lash and hung on.
She brushed it away, hoping she hadn’t ruined her makeup, which, on
top of the horrible night, would simply be too much.

Taking a deep breath, Alannah readied to face
the rest of the night. She wanted to leave now but couldn’t pull
Trenton away from all the women falling all over themselves to get
to him. She knew all about their aggressive acts because he’d
shared them with her before. Women passed him their numbers, and
the more assertive ones handed over their panties.

Alannah unlatched the door and went to the
mirrored wall. She waited a few minutes until a spot cleared and
then went through the motions of washing her hands. In reality, she
used the opportunity to examine her reflection. Overall, she looked
okay.

Her hair had flattened a bit, but still hung
in silky and straight lines around her face. Light makeup added
color to her cheeks and she’d accentuated her eyes with liner,
mascara, and an eyelash curler. Thankfully, none of the red-toned
lipstick had made it onto her teeth, and she’d been careful to sip
from a straw the entire night to minimize the loss of color to her
lips.

Maybe it was the dress. She examined the
outfit with a critical eye. Although it hugged her body, she didn’t
have a large chest. If she’d stuffed her bra, maybe?

She shook her head. Silly thought. No point
in padding her bra, because that would be false advertising. She
simply had to accept that there was something about her that didn’t
attract the men here tonight. The Underground wasn’t her
element.

Alannah dried her hands on a paper towel and
eased past the women crowded around the mirror. She exited the
bathroom, still deflated, when a man standing against the wall
touched her arm as she passed.

A smooth-as-silk voice arrested her steps.
“Why the long face?” Brilliant teeth practically glowed against
skin the color of onyx. He had a diamond in each ear and was fine
as all get out, with the build of a running back and a tight black
shirt to show off his muscles.

“I have a long face?” Alannah pushed away the
nervous flutter in her stomach. For the first time tonight someone
was paying her attention, and it felt really, really good.

“You sure do. Let me see that smile. I know
it’s in there somewhere.”

Alannah laughed, blushing.

“There it is. Gorgeous.”

Another man next to him tapped his shoulder
and whispered in his ear. Gradually, the ebony god’s expression
changed.

“Sorry for bothering you.” He smiled again,
that polite smile she’d received all evening, and the two men
walked away.

Stunned, Alannah didn’t move at first. She
touched her hair and surreptitiously breathed into her palm. Men
had seldom noticed the old Alannah, but now, even when they did,
they behaved as if there was something wrong with her.

What the hell was going on?

She walked back to the table where Terri sat
entertaining two of her minions. Both men stood when Alannah
arrived, and with a few words of goodbye, they left her and Terri
alone again.

Her friend danced in the seat, wiggling her
body in a snakelike manner to the current performer’s thumping beat
and rap lyrics.

Alannah leaned toward her friend and softly
asked, “Do I look okay?”

Terri looked at her, but continued to dance.
“Of course. I would’ve told you if you didn’t. Why?”

With anyone else, Alannah might have been too
embarrassed to admit this, but she had to say it. “No one will talk
to me.”

Terri stopped her gyrations and frowned. “You
mean men?”

Alannah swallowed, face coloring. “Yes.” She
told Terri about the incident outside the bathroom.

“Pfft. His friend must have reminded him he
had a wife and kids at home. You probably dodged a bullet.”

That didn’t explain the lack of attention
during the entire night.

“I guess.” Tears crept to the corners of her
eyes again, but Alannah blinked them away. “I just thought…I
dunno.” She stared at her watered-down drink.

Terri squeezed her wrist. “It’s not you,
okay? Really. Sometimes it’s like that. Some nights you can’t get a
number. Other times men hound you, no matter what you look like. I
can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in a store with a baseball
cap, sweats, and tennis shoes on, and men approach me. It’s a
crapshoot. You’re having a slow night, that’s all.”

“Do you have slow nights?” She already knew
Terri didn’t, and when her friend bit her top lip and didn’t
respond, it confirmed that Terri had only made those comments to be
nice.

Jealousy stung Alannah’s belly, followed
quickly by the heat of shame that she was even jealous of her
friend.

Alannah signaled for the waitress.

The young woman hustled over. “Another
daiquiri?”

Alannah gave her a strong and friendly smile,
despite her crushed spirits. “No. This time I’ll take a rum and
Coke, please.”

Terri watched her sideways but didn’t
comment.

Alannah wouldn’t listen anyway. She didn’t
care anymore. The night officially sucked, and she wanted to feel
better.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Eyes half closed and
speech slurred, Alannah waved Trenton away with an overly dramatic
gesture and then slumped across the table.

Mouth tight, he stared at
her. She looked about to slide out of the chair onto the floor.

Fuming, he scanned the club for her so-called
friend, Terri, and caught her eye when she looked up from chatting
up some guy against the wall behind the tables.

She excused herself and came over.

“She’s drunk,” he said, barely containing his
anger.

“I’m not thrunk,” Alannah slurred.

Trenton glared at Terri. “Some friend you
are. How many drinks did she have?”

“I don’t know. Is she going to be all right?”
Terri tilted her head to get a good look at Alannah.

“I’ll make sure that she is,” he said.
“Because that’s what friends do.” He looped an arm around Alannah’s
narrow waist and helped her to her feet. She leaned heavily against
him.

“I’m sorry,” Terri said, concern etched in
her features.

“I’m taking her out of here.” Trenton tossed
another disgusted look at Terri, who bit her bottom lip in
distress. He then tightened the supporting arm around Alannah’s
waist and halfway carried her through the crowded club.

In the parking lot, he struggled to get her
into the car, but managed to set her in the seat and secure the
seatbelt across her lap. The drive to her apartment was made in
silence because she dozed off and on the entire way. Once there, he
parked in the driveway and unlocked the door before walking back to
his vehicle.

He lifted her out of the Range Rover, and her
head flopped backward. Trenton clenched his jaw and hoisted her
higher in his arms. When he kicked the front door shut behind him,
Angel poked her head out of the cage and growled low in her
throat.

“I’m
helping
her,” he hissed, annoyed
he even cared what that damn dog thought.

Angel only growled louder. Trenton walked on
by, the trek up the stairs not an easy one under Alannah’s dead
weight. Inside her bedroom, he dropped her in an inelegant pile on
the bed in the dark room.

“Where am I?” she muttered, rolling onto her
stomach, butt in the air.

“Home,” Trenton bit out. “I’ll be right back.
Stay right there.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she mumbled into
the mattress.

Trenton went downstairs to the kitchen and
endured more threatening sounds from Angel. He poured a glass of
water and rushed back up the stairs and into the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” Alannah called from the
bedroom.

“Getting you some aspirin. Don’t move.”

He scanned the medicine cabinet and found an
almost empty bottle of aspirin. He checked the expiration date
first and then emptied a couple of the tablets into his palm.

Back in the bedroom, he flipped on the lamp
beside the bed and assessed the scene before him. Alannah had dozed
off again in the same position he’d left her in—face down and the
red mini hiked up high enough for him to see the bottom curve of
her bare ass.

An ass made for spanking.

His penis jumped and he swallowed hard.
Flushing guiltily, he removed her shoes and she stirred awake.

Trenton lowered onto the bed beside her.
“Here, take these. They’ll help so you don’t feel too crappy in the
morning.”

She wrinkled her nose, moaned, and turned
away. “What is it?”

“Aspirin. Take them.” She’d never been drunk
before. At the most, tipsy. She had no idea the hangover she’d
experience in the morning thanks to her binge at the club. “Drink
all the water, too.”

He force-fed her the aspirin and the entire
glass of water. She coughed a little and he cradled her in the
curve of his arm. A thin stream of water trickled from the corner
of her mouth onto her dress, but he made sure she drank every bit
from the glass.

“Okay?” Trenton said when she’d finished. He
set the glass on the table beside the bed.

“Mhmm.”

Then Alannah did something he could never
have anticipated. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled
him down on top of her. Before he could even compute that they were
strewn across the mattress, she turned her face into his neck and
inhaled. “You always smell so good.”

The sensation of her soft lips made his blood
pressure spike, and he held his breath and closed his eyes as he
fought within himself. She didn’t make the struggle any easier when
she licked his neck, a long, slow movement from his shoulder all
the way up to right below his ear—the moist sensation making his
heart beat double time. “Taste good, too.”

His stomach and fingers squeezed into a mass
of tight knots. “Lana…”

“Guess what color my panties are,” she
whispered hotly in his ear.

His thigh muscles constricted so tight blood
surely ceased to flow below his knees. “I’m not going to
guess—”

“Red, to match my dress.”

Shit.

“It’s actually a thong, with cute little bows
on each hip. Wanna see?”

Yes
.

“Lana, sweetheart, you’re drunk,” Trenton
said, voice taut and strained. Could she hear how hard this was for
him? He attempted to extricate himself from her clinging arms, but
she tightened her hold.

“Love you so much,” she whispered, pressing
soft lips to his cheek.

His abs clenched so tight that long seconds
passed before he breathed oxygen again. It wasn’t the first time
she’d ever told him she loved him. They’d said those words to each
other plenty of times over the years, because they did love each
other. But having her say those words, kiss his cheek, and lie
strewn across her bed had unexpected consequences in his pants.

“Okay, enough.” Steely resolve filled his
voice. Trenton pulled her with him when he sat up, but he tore her
arms from around his neck. She fell back onto the mattress but
bounced right back up and straddled his lap.

She gasped, hazel eyes lighting up
mischievously. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” One hand
covered his crotch and squeezed. A flash of heat accosted his groin
and he instantaneously grew harder and elongated.

Trenton groaned and grabbed her roaming hand.
Gritting his teeth, he fought for control. “Behave yourself.”

“I want to see it,” she pleaded, mouth close
to his. “The famous serpent. The
Womb
Beater
.”

And he wanted to show it to her.

Years ago, he’d briefly dated a model. After
the relationship ended, she told a magazine he was so well endowed
that she’d felt as if he’d beaten her womb every time they’d had
sex. Shortly thereafter, the nickname Womb Beater emerged in the
tabloids and the gossip blogs.

When at first women had chased him because of
his wealth and good looks, curiosity was added to the mix. They
wanted to know if it was true, and some of his sexual partners had
even tried to sneak and take pictures to provide proof of his
size.

“You don’t want to see it,” Trenton said.

“Please,” she said petulantly, with a cute
little pout. She twisted and wiggled against him in an effort to
break free and make another grab for the front of his pants. “I
want to see if it’s true. I’ve known you forever and I’ve never
seen it—not even a glimpse.”

And then Alannah pressed her mouth to his.
Trenton froze, taken completely by surprise, and his heart rate
tore into a full sprint.

Her lips were soft and pliable. She moaned,
and that sound alone tipped him over the edge and destroyed the
last milligram of his restraint. He seized her hips and hauled her
tight against his crotch. His hard loins filled with heat and a
pulsing, throbbing desire that had him focused only on tasting more
and more of her.